


Empire of Lost Realms

by acourtofwriters



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Fantasy, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, High Fantasy, Multi, Other, Romance, Slow Burn, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:27:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29358720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acourtofwriters/pseuds/acourtofwriters
Summary: Want to know a secret? This story ends with the villain winning. But who is the villain in this story? That's yours to decide.War is once again on the horizon in the lands of Narilya.When The High Overlord of Aderion sends Eileen Cyprus on an impossible quest to forge alliances with the faraway continents, she will have to face shadows from the past, endure the deepest of betrayals and fight against a darker power than the lands have ever seen before. The fate of the realms rests in the palms of her hands. And Eileen will have to make decisions that will change their world forever.All the while fighting to not lose sight of herself in the process...
Relationships: Eileen Cyprus/Darion Morningsword Hans Vykwell/Mila Dragonthorn Khione Dorethion/Leander Hollins
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys will enjoy this story! I've been working on it for quite some time, I'll upload as frequently as I can. Without further ado, welcome to the world of Narilya!

The Collapsing Palaces

Prologue

The world was ablaze. It looked like The Dark Gods themselves had come down to wreak havoc.

“TO YOUR LEFT!” Nikandros roared out above the sounds of chaos.

Evander lunged towards the right, landing hard on his side and narrowly avoiding the tall marble pillar that came crashing down. 

The ground shuddered beneath them. 

Too close—that was far, far too close.  
In only a few hours, everything had gone completely to hell. Nikandros knew this was not going to end with the Aderion victory bell’s ringing. And with the look of sorrow Evander wore, he thought his friend might be thinking the same thing.

But there was no time to waste, not a precious moment to spare, so High Overlord Nikandros slung an arm around the general’s midriff and hauled him upright. 

“I can stand myself—” Evander began. 

“We don't have time to argue about this, so scold me later and move quicker.” At the tone of command in Nikandros’s voice, Evander bit back his retort, held on tighter to his closest friend, and obeyed.

They limped towards the remaining tower. The only thing in all of Aderion guaranteed not to turn to rubble. The High Overlord tried desperately to block out the sounds of terror and despair coming from his people—the people he was sworn to protect. The tower was only a few feet away now, and it took every ounce of will he had not to turn around—not to lash out with his magic and do something—anything to help. He could do nothing. He was defenseless short of the sword sheathed to his back. Some inner part of him roared at that—that he was practically a king at someone else’s mercy.  
Nikandros threw open the doors at the base of the tower and began the ascent up the stairs.  
Evander hissed in pain with each movement. The stone, spiral staircase must’ve been at least a few hundred steps up. And with each agonizing step, the images of everything and everyone he’d failed flashed through his mind.

One step, his family name.  
Step, his people.  
Another step, Evander…

Upon reaching the top of the tower, he was met with the sight of all four rulers from the realms. Of course, they weren’t truly in Aderion. All being too busy dealing with the invasions happening in their own lands. With some form of magic, they all appeared as near-transparent versions of themselves—here in mind, not in flesh.

The Overlord of Aderion was temporarily stunned by the stark difference in between each court. All conversation halted when he and Evander stood before them. “Glad you finally decided to join us, Nikandros.” Lenora crooned, her red painted lips curling upwards into a taunting smile. 

Lenora Del Irvine, Faerie Queen of Revineon.

“Forgive me, Lenora. I was a bit preoccupied,” he bit out. 

“This meeting is not for masked insults. We only have moments to spare.” Brianon said. 

Brianon Fiaruhn, The Overlord of Emephyste. 

“As much as I hate to agree with Brianon,” Kaius drawled, “The Serokian armada’s are sailing for my lands right as we speak. How about you explain how all this happened.” 

Kaius Viperion, Overlord of Galadrion. 

There was no right way to say it. Nikandros had made a mistake. A terrible–terrible mistake that would cost him more than he could have imagined.  
“I opened the chambers.” Brianon’s sharp intake of breath was audible. “I thought it could turn the tides—that we could find some sort of alliance. My father was too weak to ever even attempt it. I did what I thought was right for my kingdom.” He would not apologize, there was no use. 

“You fool,” Lenora hissed. “Do you understand what you’ve done? The consequences that will come because of such ignorance will be beyond harrowing.” 

Brianon was watching him, his gaze unfaltering. “Your father kept those chambers sealed for a reason, boy. You are young and inexperienced. And you have doomed us all in your search for glory, understand that we cannot take such things lightly.” Nikandros snarled, “If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were making a threat.”

“Well, do you?”  
“Do I what.”  
“Know better.”

Every violent urge in Nikandros’s body seemed to come alive at the High Overlord of Emephyste’s words, at the condescending tone.  
“Do not scold me as if I am some mere child—”

“In my two hundred sixty-four years of existence, I don’t think I’ve ever seen such foolishness.” Lythin interrupted, his mouth set in a thin line. 

Lythin Greysor, Overlord of Kallisterion.

“We don’t have the time for this—” Kaius froze. His serpent-like green eyes widening. A look of utter desperation taking over his handsome features. The face that usually promised such mischief was now crumbling.  
“It—it is too late, the Serokian armies have landed in Galadrion.”

No. No.

“Impossible, how did they get past the ships I sent?” Lenora’s voice was near frantic. The voice’s all blurred together, the outer edges of his vision were darkening—he briefly registered Evander put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but to no avail.  
If the Serokian armies were already in Galadrion, then more troops were coming for Aderion next. There was already a part of the Serokian armada in Aderion. If they were to send more soldiers, then any attempt to fight back would be feeble. This would destroy Aderion. Destroy his people. Destroy his legacy.  
And not only that—he’d also opened the chambers. The chambers he’d thought would hold a miracle, an alliance, anything. Holy Gods. What had he done?

Nikandros had failed, his legacy had been put to shame.

His fault his fault his fault—

“What have I done?” His voice was hoarse as he uttered the words he knew would haunt him for the remainder of his immortal life.

“Is there truly nothing we can do?” Evander breathed. 

Lythin hesitated—“There is possibly something. But it will come with an immense price.” 

“No.” Lenora’s voice was sharp as steel, the voice of a queen.

“What can be done? Tell me, I—I will do anything.”

He knew his claim was bold, perhaps incautious. But with the sounds of his people’s screams, so stark, so at odds with the usual soft symphony of children’s laughter heard in Aderion village’s—he realized he truly would do anything. If it would give his people a chance, if it would give himself a chance at redemption, if it would give Evander a chance at glory, then yes. “Are you aware of what you released into our world when you opened those chambers?” Lythin asked.

No—  
“Yes.”

“You’re a horrible liar.”

Lenora’s smile was sharp as steel. “Must be a family trait,” she mused.

Yet there was no amusement in Lythin’s voice as he bellowed, “You unleashed a Dark God, Nikandros of House Dorethion. You have unleashed The Talus Shadowbringer.” Nikandros’s heart thundered so hard he thought his insides might bruise.

A Dark God. 

He didn't even know they were real. He had thought they were myths—legends— told by preachers to scare people into praying to The Light Gods. There were only four Dark Gods. They were beings that visited their world every few thousand years to revel in misery. He hadn't known that opening the castle chambers would awaken—unleash one into their world. 

Lythin uttered, “The only way to trap The ShadowBringer would be by chaining it to a living vessel, by tethering it to a body.” 

He wasn't sure Evander was breathing. 

Nikandros turned towards Lenora, “And what would happen to said body?” he breathed. “We would put a curse on it. Once Talus is inside the body, we would trap him.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” he asked.

Evander slammed his fist on the table, rattling everything on it. “You can't do this Nikandros. Please, I can’t live knowing that a demon is trapped inside you.”  
Ignoring the general’s words, he pressed, “Do it, and do it quickly.” Simple words that would ensure his downfall. 

The rulers did not have to be told twice. The metallic tang of magic filled the air. And the palms of each monarch’s hands glowed brightly with pure, unrelenting power. 

The ShadowBringer appeared. This was it.

The end. 

The monarchs had summoned the Dark God to trap him once again.

Nikandros didn't know what he expected to see when he realized he would be seeing a legendary Dark God in mere moments. But a tall, handsome, dark-haired male clad in a blood-red dress coat certainly wasn't at the top of his list. 

The Talus ShadowBringer stood before him. Talus gave him a small smile that promised an endless amount of violence. 

His smirk quickly faltered when he looked towards the chains encompassing his body, twin to the one's beginning to surround Nikandros.

The general lunged towards him, only to be met with a force field. 

Evander’s face crumpled. 

His hands slamming against the shield over, and over. He was shouting now, desperation heavy in his voice. 

A cold, tight feeling enveloped him, it felt as if his body was compressing into himself.

Then the pain hit.

A vicious wave of agony attacked him. He briefly registered the impact of cold stone hitting his knees. 

He heard screaming. 

And he wondered if it was coming from the attacks on his beloved village, or if it was coming from Evander, or if they were coming from himself. The pain turned into something overwhelming. It felt as if his lungs were made of burning cole, and with every breath he took, he knew he was one step closer to death.  
When his vision finally began to fade, he knew there was only one thing left to do. Pushing past the pain, the agony, the guilt, the darkness, he looked up towards Evander. 

The light of his life. 

High Overlord Nikandros Dorethion mouthed "I love you" before everything turned to black.


	2. Aleksandor Vaserys Cyprus

The Iron Crest War Camps had always been dreadfully dull.

Until a few days ago. 

The soldiers had all been on edge since hearing The High Overlord’s sister had been taken captive by The Serokian Isles. Something like this was bound to spread rumors of war. Walking through the camps, Aleksandor pondered over the situation while desperately trying to block out the sounds of hot metal being forged into armory, blades clashing, and men shouting. 

A conflict in Aderion had become a rarity since The Great War—which had taken place over eight-hundred years ago.

The ruling monarchs had all learned from their ancestor's harrowing mistakes—and had played the political games very carefully to ensure no such thing happened again. 

Yet over the centuries, soldiers had practically been praying for war—if only to give them something to do. It seemed their prayers had finally been answered. 

Aleksandor knew they would someday regret their prayers. That they would curse themselves for wishing upon such a thing once they were faced with a battalion twice their size, once their brothers would slowly begin falling, one by one.

The life of a soldier had always been one that appealed to him. To live a simple, honorable life would have been any man’s dream in Aderion. Would have been any man’s dream, because there was never really any use for a soldier in a warless realm.

“What’s got you walking around the fields with such a serious face, Cyprus?” Rhoe asked. 

His tone was friendly—Rhoe Winters had always been friendly. 

Aleksandor would miss him if he fell in battle. 

“Just thinking about which armada’s General Oldthorne will send out first if this does lead to anything,” he lied. 

Rhoe nodded, “Let me know if you want to talk.” Aleksandor nodded back, his eyes conveying the gratitude he did not speak aloud. 

He kept walking until he was at the furthest point of the camp, at the edge of a cliff overlooking the battlefields. The wind blew in his hair. 

Aleksandor Vaserys Cyprus drew in a breath and stared onwards. 

The promise of death stared right back at him. 

War was coming.


	3. Part One - The Beginning of The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter of my main storyline! This takes place 800 years after The Collapsing Palaces. The rest of the story will be written from my main character (Eileen Cyprus's) point of view. Enjoy!

800 years later...

My sword collided with that of my competitors.

The impact of metal on metal made my bones rattle, but I didn't waste any time. 

I drew the second blade sheathed to my back, twin to the one in my hand.   
He caught the motion, his eyes focused on my movement. 

Perfect.  
He was too distracted to react in time when I slashed his left arm—his fighting arm.

He cursed, and with his good hand, he drew a small blade attached to the bandolier of knives strapped to his hip. 

The crowds roared from their seats above us.

“Enjoy the noise, Eileen. It’ll be the last you’ll hear before I gut you.” His eyes were near-feral, merciless.

“I'll make sure to inform everyone that even moments before death, your taunts were pitiful.” 

Before I could dodge it, he slammed the pommel of his sword into my skull. 

I tasted blood and sand as I hit the earth. Stars danced in my vision, and I stumbled to my feet purely out of instinct, steadying myself as much as I could.

I spat blood at his feet.

He merely laughed, “I was hoping for a decent fight tonight, what a disappointment this has been.” I could barely hear anything past the dull roaring in my head. Focused merely on the thought of how nice my blade would look in his neck, I gave him a crooked grin.

And then I lunged.

Silently praying my legs wouldn't buckle beneath me, I struck again, aiming to disarm him. But with a swing of his sword, he deflected it. My mouth went dry when he attacked next. He seemed to grow bored with simply striking and deflecting. Good, so was I. He took up a fully offensive stance, slashing at me until I had no choice but to slowly begin backing up into a wall. He hurtled a knife for my wrist, and I had no choice but to drop my weapon—unless I wanted to lose a hand. When I began realizing that I had no chance of overthrowing him, not when he towered over me by so much—not when I was disarmed, dread slowly began creeping in.

I shouldn't have let him back me into a corner, I shouldn't have—

There. An opening.

His eyes were no longer focused on me. He was looking up towards the crowd, victory gleaming in his eyes. I closed my eyes, willing my powers to surface. 

Soulseaker.

That's what I was. 

I was a Soulseaker with the ability to find what was lost. 

Find my blade, I had to find my blade. I opened my palm, and my sword glowed from where I had dropped it.  
The crowd awed, and my competitor must have thought it was directed towards him, because he only grinned wider, revealing his sharp teeth.  
My blade floated towards my palm. I prayed to The Light Gods that he wouldn't notice the audience's gaze drifting towards my now floating sword. 

I felt cool steel hit my palm at the same moment his eyes widened, and without hesitation, I thrust the blade into his chest. 

The crowd went silent.

“I told you once that your arrogance would get you killed. It seems I was right after all.” He coughed up blood as I pulled out the blade. 

His body went down with a thud. 

The sounds of his blades hitting the ground seemed so much louder now that the crowd was silent.  
The gates to the arena opened, and two guards emerged. 

I dropped my weapons to the floor, and they advanced to escort me back to my awaiting cell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit short, but I've always felt like fight scenes should be short and straight to the point. I also just wanted an excuse to introduce you guys to Eileen ;) Stay tuned for the next chapter, that's when we meet the rest of the crew!


	4. The High Overlord of Aderion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so the story begins.

I awoke to the sound of my cell door creaking open.

Blinking the sleep out of my eyes, the sound of a gruff voice ordering me to get up made any traces of tiredness vanish completely. On slightly shaking legs, I stood.

My entire body was aching from last night's fight in the arena.  
The golden torchlight makes me wince and cover my eyes with the dirt-covered back of my palm while my eyes adjust to the brightness. 

I was hauled forward by two guards, the sounds of my shackled ankles making me grit my teeth. My heart thundered so broadly, I was certain the guards could hear it. 

Why I was being taken out of my cell was beyond me.

I had already fought last night, surely I wouldn't get thrown back in the arena for at least another week. I certainly wasn’t being let out for my execution—not when I didn't even know what crime had gotten me thrown into prison in the first place. 

My entire family had been sentenced for a crime my mother had long ago committed. A crime that I still did not know. My mother had always been lovely—I couldn't picture her ever committing a crime if her life depended on it. Yet, she had supposedly doomed us when the former Overlord’s wife had accused her of—something.

Heart still beating wildly, I began recognizing my surroundings.

I was being taken to the palace throne room. 

Light Gods have mercy.

Walking through the palace halls, I almost couldn't believe such finery existed. I peered upwards towards one of the guards holding my arm, “Why am I being taken to the throne room?” My voice was slightly frantic.

“Quiet,” he grunted.

Fine.

I peered up towards the other guard, opening my mouth—  
“Don't even try it.”

I huffed, “If I'm being taken to see The High Overlord, won't you at least let me brush out my hair, powder my nose?”

The two guards looked towards each other, exasperation written across their faces.

Good. 

If they weren't even going to allow me the privilege of knowing whether I should be worried for my life, then I would make them regret taking me out of my cell in the first place.

Rounding a corner, I became keenly aware of the eyes drawn towards me, of the servants who scurried by upon laying eyes on me—of the courtesans whispering, gossiping about a prisoner being brought towards the throne room. I would not bow my head in shame, I would not give anyone the satisfaction of looking weak.  
And so, as the large doors to the throne room embedded with golden swirls, were opened by two stone-faced guards, I threw my shoulders back and lifted my chin. I may have had my former life taken from me, but I swore to myself that I would never allow anyone to look down upon me.  
I would not yield. 

Upon entering the grand throne room, I willed my knees not to buckle, willed my breathing to remain calm, willed my face to remain impassive, unbothered.

The task proved to be more daunting once I was faced with the High Overlord of Aderion.

Handsome—with his neat blond hair, sharp facial features and broad shoulders. I almost faltered a step when his eyes met mine, his lips curled into a taunting, wicked smile.

“Hello there, Eileen Cyprus.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter, but the next few ones are gonna be long. :)


	5. The Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to meet my dysfunctional band of warriors.

Words seemed to fail me for a moment, yet I managed to muster up as much bravado as I could as I sketched a bow.

“High Overlord.” 

He snorted.

“I must say, I didn’t expect such a pretty thing when my councilman informed me of you.” The Overlord lounged on his throne, almost lazily—yet the portrait of elegance. 

“I suppose I should say I am honored, but I'm sure the courtesans outside the doors would eat me alive if I so much as accepted a compliment from you, milord.” 

“Smart girl,” he drummed his fingers along the arms of the throne. “You’re probably wondering why you were summoned here, yes?”

I nodded hesitantly—

He leaned forwards, “I want to offer you a chance, Eileen. I want to give you the chance to leave your cell for good.” 

My heart halted. A chance to escape. To be free.

“How.” Not a question—a demand.

He raised a brow, “Is that any way to address your High Overlord? Ask me again nicely, and I'll consider telling you.” 

Prick.

“My most gracious High Overlord, handsome beyond any Dorethion that has lived, I beg of you, tell me what I have to do to get the hell out of this place.”

He cut me a flat look, I flashed him a grin.

“I don't know if you’re aware, but Aderion is on the verge of war. The Serokian Isles have taken my youngest sister captive,” his jaw clenched visibly. “As you’ve probably guessed, my main priority is on retrieving her.”

How in The Four Light Gods name did he allow that to happen? 

“Forgive me milord, but I fail to understand what this has to do with my leaving this place.”

He glanced towards the grande doors behind me, hesitating.

Then, he nodded towards the guards who had escorted me. “Bring them in.”

I froze. Bring them in.

Was he ordering executioners in? Was he toying with words—giving me a chance to leave my cell, surely the only way for that to happen was in death? I'm only nineteen—I had the entirety of my mortal life ahead of me. Perhaps it was not to be anything grandiose or extravagant—but there was so much I wanted to do. I wanted to fall in love, I wanted—

My thoughts were cut off when four figures emerged, all clad in fighting leathers, all so stark in difference. I'm not certain what executioners were supposed to look like, but this certainly wasn't in. They all fell in line in front of the Overlord.

“I've heard you’re quite the talented Soulseeker, Eileen Cyprus, join my chosen four in retrieving my sister, and your sentence will be lifted. With your gifts of finding things that have been lost, I'm sure you will be of great use to them.”

“How did—how did you know I was a Soulseeker?”

“One of my councilmen informed me of your little display of power during last night's fight,” he shrugged. “I saw an opportunity and took it.”

“Your sister—she is in the Serokian Isles.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw, “Yes.”

“And you want me to help retrieve her.”

“You and the four others I have chosen.”

I glanced towards them, three males and one female—all faeries. Their attention was focused solely on sizing me up it seemed. It was hard not to recoil from their stares when I most likely looked like I had just crawled out of the underworld—when I was still covered in dirt and blood from last night's fight.

One of them—the broadest spoke, “This is the Soulseaker? She’s the one who’s coming with us?” His nose crinkled slightly.

“Where are your manners Darion?” The Overlord’s tone was laced with disapproval, “I'm certain she will be a considerable asset to your team, now introduce yourselves.”

Darion’s mouth tightened into a thin line, “Darion Morningsword.”

The male next to him—tall with long, flaming red hair walked up to me, taking my hand and turning it over, placing a kiss on my wrist, “Hans Vykwell, at your service.” He winked before returning to his position.

The other two—brother and sister, no doubt. The male rolled his eyes at Hans’s antics but inclined his head nonetheless. “Elias Dragonthorne.” 

The female flashed me a small smile, “Mila Dragonthorne.” Beautiful—the only way to describe them would be that, with pretty bright eyes, and caramel skin—no doubt from Emephyste, the Southernlands.

“What do you say, Eileen? Aid me in retrieving my sister in exchange for your freedom?” The question hung in the air for a few seconds while I considered.

“Yes.” I breathed, only a fool would pass up the opportunity.

His eyes glowed bright, “Lovely.” He glanced towards the four, “You are dismissed, gather all you need for the journey. You leave tomorrow at first light.”

My eyes widened—first light—tomorrow. 

I was heading to the Serokian Isles tomorrow.

“Mila, bring Eileen to her chambers—clean her up, feed her, inform her of what you must.” He waved a dismissive hand, “Report to me before you leave, rest whilst you can.”

With that, the males walked out, Mila taking my hand and leading me to one of the guards, who took out a key from his pocket and undid my shackles. I relished the feeling of my ankles and wrists without cold metal. A metal forged from magic, rendering me unable to use my powers whilst wearing it. I was surprised to find myself smiling slightly, walking out with my head held high.

“It must be quite the change in scenery,” Mila pondered out loud. “To go from rotting in a cell to being sent on a harrowing quest by the High Overlord.”  
No malice in her tone—only curiosity.

“I suppose I must have impressed the Light Gods in my past life.”

Her eyes sparkled with amusement, “The Light Gods won't help us now, the fate of Aderion rests solely on us now I'm afraid.”

My steps faltered—her amber eyes widened.

“What do you mean the fate of Aderion.”

“I shouldn't have said anything—forget I said that tell me about your fight last night—I heard it was quite the show.” 

“We aren't going to retrieve the High Overlord’s sister are we.” I stopped walking completely.

“Of course we are,” she grabbed my hand again, beckoning me to keep walking. “But it—it isn't that simple.” 

We reached a room—my room for the night, and she ushered me inside. A feast fit for kings sat on a table in the large marble room. Mila nodded towards one of the opposing chairs, “Eat. I'll explain while you eat.”

I did as she commanded, heaping servings of meats, vegetables, and bread onto my plate. I didn't bother waiting for her to serve herself before I dug into my food. “We are indeed going to the Serokian Isles to retrieve Khione, but some things are, well—unclear.”

“Unclear?”

“Whether Khione was even taken captive against her will for one,” she muttered, drinking deeply from her glass of wine.

“Why would she want to be taken captive?”

Mila sighed and set down her glass of wine, leaning in closer towards me. “There are rumors—rumors of Khione and the youngest son of The Serokian King—Leander, I think, forming a love connection. Florian doesn't care whether she was taken against her will or not. If she did want to be taken, if she didn't, he disapproves regardless.” She laughed—soundlessly and without humor. “And now, it's our responsibility to get her back, safe and sound.”

“Doesn't sound like you like her very much,” I said, taking a bite of warm, buttery bread.

“Thank the Light Gods if you never meet her.”

I hummed, reaching for another piece of bread. Mila grabbed my wrist, stopping me halfway. I raised a brow, “Eat one more bite and you’ll make yourself sick.” 

I slumped back in my seat, even though I did feel so full that I thought I might be sick. “Come,” she ushered, “I'll show you the bathing room, clean yourself up—there’s a robe inside the cabinet.” 

...

I took my time in the bathing chambers, foaming all the different scented soaps, spraying every perfume, lathering my hair with various honey milk scented oils. I scrubbed and scrubbed until my skin polished. I had to drain the bath twice before the water was clear and bloodless.   
I pondered over what Mila had told me—about Khione and her supposed lover, Leander. 

I smiled at the thought of Florian Dorethion’s fury after hearing such rumors. I'm not sure if the young monarch had considered the consequences of her reckless actions, but some part of me saluted her for taking such a risk—if she was in love, then who was Florian to try and stop her? Certainly, this could have played out in a simpler manner—one that didn't include the High Overlord sending his four most trusted allies—and an imprisoned Soulseaker—all the way to the Serokian Isles. 

Some part of it was crooked. Why send a crew of five all the way across the ocean? Surely, the quest could have been accomplished with only one of us sent. No matter, I surely wasn't going to complain—yet, some small part of me knew that there was more to the story. With the history of the five continents and the Serokian Isles—with The Great War having unfolded only a few centuries ago, simply retrieving Khione wasn't going to be the end of it. 

Stepping out of the bath, I wrapped myself in the silk robe. The contrast between the rags I wore yesterday and the luxurious silk I bore today made me feel slightly uneasy—but now isn't the time to dwell on feelings. 

I have secrets to uncover.

...

Mila was waiting on my bed when I stepped out of the bathing chambers. 

“We’re truly leaving tomorrow morning then?”

She looked up from the book she was flipping through, “First light.”

“I'm sure Darion is ecstatic that I will be joining you.” I couldn't help the bitterness that laced my tone. 

A sympathetic smile at that, “Darion’s a bit rough around the edges, not very keen on new friends—not when it's been just the four of us for so long. He’ll warm up to you soon, I promise.” 

“So the four of you—you’re the High Overlord’s right-hand men?”

She shook her head, “Darion is Florian’s second in command, I'm his third, Elias and Hans have their own abilities making them worthy of Florian’s court.”

“You must be quite the talented soldier, to be Florian’s third in command.”

She snorted, “I'm no soldier, I know how to wield a blade sure, but not anything special.”

“Then..?” A grin, “I'm a shapeshifter, Eileen.” 

My breath hitched. “Show me.” 

A flash of white light, and then—A tiger stood before me. A tiger with bright green eyes—Mila’s eyes. 

“By the Light Gods.” Another flash of white light and then—Mila was in front of me again. 

She grinned lazily. “Impressive isn't it?” I merely nodded, unable to find the correct words. “I've never seen a Soulseaker in action. Your turn.”

I picked up a small hairpin from the ornate dresser opposing the bed. I walked up to her and held it up for her to take, she raised a brow but didn’t question me when I told her to hide it anywhere in the room.

I locked myself in the bathing chambers until she yelled out, “It's hidden!” Walking out, she gave me a taunting smile and shrugged. “Good luck finding it.” 

I closed my eyes, willing myself to reach into the deep, unending well of power within me. I pictured the hairpin. The texture, the size, the color. I briefly felt my hands begin to warm and opened my eyes in time to see my palms glowing brightly. 

Mila straightened slightly in her seat. I felt a pull towards the large window. Unlocking the hatch, I threw open the window and floated my palm above where Mila had hidden the pin. More like she threw it out the window and into the palace gardens. Nonetheless—the pin flew into my hand when I willed it too.

Mila hummed, “An important asset to the team you will be.”

She explained to me the logistics of the plan for tomorrow. When we were to step aboard our ship—Nytiper—and what was expected of me. I slept fitfully that night. 

Although it was the most comfortable bed I’d ever slept in, I didn’t fully let myself take in everything that had happened. 

Thinking that if I thought about it too much, I might wake up from whatever strange dream this must be.


	6. The Boy With Sea-Blue Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eileen gets her first taste of freedom in a very, very long time.

Upon entering the Aderion village, the familiar sounds of jolly instruments and the scent of spices and fresh-baked bread greeted me. 

A wave of emotions hit me. I blinked back tears. Urging myself not to think of my mother, of my brothers, or my father. 

Hans interrupted my train of thought, “We should eat before we leave. It's going to be a long journey.” 

Darion rolled his eyes, “You’re going to get sea-sick if you eat now.” 

Hans shrugged, steering us towards another direction. “I take it we're going to eat, then?” I asked Mila. 

Her sly smile told me enough.

As we walked, I took in every detail I could. Basking in the sunlight that I had craved during those long months in my dark cell, in the feeling of walking in the streets of the village I grew up in. A few people gaped at us as we walked by. Some children pointed towards us in awe. The High Overlord’s right-hand men walking in the streets must not be a common sight then. I turned towards Mila, about to ask how often they came into the village when the sound of a child sobbing stopped me right in my tracks. 

I stilled, wondering where the sound was coming from.

Elias nudged me forwards, “Keep walking, it's nothing.” 

The look on his face telling me just how much he loathed the idea. 

My mouth went dry when I beheld a boy—perhaps around 7, having one of his sleeves lifted up, a guard holding down his arm, another pulling out his sword. 

Hans swallowed visibly but kept walking, his eyes betraying his actions. 

The boy screamed—but no one did anything, a few women whispering prayers to the Light Gods, I could hear my heartbeat pounding broadly in my chest—since when had this become a custom in Aderion? The guard lifted his blade, the boys sobbing becoming louder—

“Stop!”

I was surprised by the sound of my own voice. 

The guards turned towards me, eyes widening slightly as they beheld my companions.

“Stop in the name of the High Overlord.”

I walked up towards them, my steps menacing, “What in the Light Gods name do you think you're doing?” I demanded.

One of the guards eyed me wearily, “The lad was caught stealing a loaf of bread, the price for theft is a hand, High Overlord’s command.”

“You’re going to take the boy’s hand for stealing a loaf of bread?” 

“High Overlord’s command.” He repeated.

“Well, as a part of The High Overlord’s court—” I didn't bother keeping the sneer out of my voice, not after what he was allowing to happen in Aderion—“I demand you release this boy.” 

I heard Darion choke behind me. 

The guard tipped his head back and roared with laughter, “And who exactly might you be?” 

I felt a broad hand on my shoulder. And through my peripheral vision, I saw glinting red hair. And just as I was certain Hans was going to begin profusely apologizing, I gathered up as much arrogance as I could, and even though the guard towered over me, I managed to lift my nose and do my best to make everything about me radiate that I was looking down upon him. 

I scoffed, “Well it’s no wonder no one bothers telling the low ranking filth of Aderion about things as important as the new members of the High Overlord’s court.” 

He blinked at me, seemingly dumbfounded at my words. 

“Release him.” 

The guard looked towards Darion, his browns knit together in question. 

Wisely, Darion nodded. 

The boy’s sobbing had ceased, though he looked like he might be sick. I gently rolled down his sleeve, taking the boy's hand in my own. Not particularly caring for the people gaping towards me, I began walking away from the crowd. 

I sneered at the guards over my shoulder once more for good measure.

When I finally deemed us far enough from the crowd to speak to the boy, I stopped and turned towards him with what I attempted to be a calming smile. Not quite knowing what to say to the trembling child clinging to my hand, I asked him gently, “Where do you live?” He pointed down the road towards a run-down cottage home. 

“I assume you want to go home to your mother.” His sea-blue eyes widened as he nodded quickly. 

I reached into the pocket of my simple, brown leather pants and pulled out a sack of gold coins. 

Gently taking his palms in my own, I dropped the bag of coins into his small hands. 

I winked at him. 

“Buy yourself some sweets.” 

The boy clung to the small sack as if it were his lifeline. The look in his eyes conveyed every ounce of gratitude he did not speak aloud. I patted the boy’s back as a farewell and he quickly trekked towards the cottage. 

“Buy yourself some sweets?” Hans’s elegant voice was unmistakable. 

Turning around, I found my four companions staring towards me from only a few feet away. It took every ounce of willpower I had to not look away from Darion’s simmering glare. His voice conveyed his fury, as well as his eyes, did. “I think he could’ve bought himself a few estates with the amount of gold you just gave him.” 

I would not apologize. There was no use. 

“The boy looked halfway towards starvation. How can you have so little empathy?” 

“That boy was a criminal—”

“He stole a loaf of bread.” 

“It doesn’t matter what he stole. He broke the law, that's all that matters. That little display of yours just defied the High Overlord’s authority. Made a mockery out of our ruler!” 

Hans, Elias, and Mila were warily glancing towards each other now. Unsure of whether they should intervene. 

I let out a bitter laugh. “If you’re waiting for an apology, you’ll be sorely disappointed.”

He walked up towards me, terrifying in his towering height and broad build. Lesser males would have probably cowered away from the glare he speared towards me. He leaned down to match my height, our faces were so close I could feel his breath on my face. 

“You might have been let out of your cage, Eileen. But I see through the arrogant act and pretty face. I'm Florian's second in command for a reason. Pull something like that again, and I’ll ship you right back to your cell.”

It might’ve been because he reminded me of the fact that he was a High Overlord’s second in command. Or because the few people around us had stopped to glance over me with pity. 

But I believed him. 

I had not a single doubt that he truly would send me right back to my cell if I stepped out of line again. 

I held his stare, refusing to back down. When it became evident that neither of us would yield, Mila gave a pointed cough from behind us. 

Darion snapped his head towards her. “What.” 

Satisfied that he looked away first, I turned in time to see Hans frown. 

He looked just about ready to gouge Darion’s pretty, grey eyes out for taking that tone to Mila, when Elias muttered out a curse. 

A gold pocket watch was clenched in his hand. “We have to be on the ship by eleven, it’s almost ten forty-five.” 

We spent the next ten minutes sprinting through the village, Hans complaining about how he didn’t get the chance to eat for the grand duration of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you guys Eileen was a baddie.


End file.
